


Silenced

by ladyoneill



Series: Shadows Of The Moon: Full Moon Ficlets [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a year into a mating he doesn't want, Stiles rarely talks anymore.  To punish Peter who wants his voice, because he's depressed, sad, hating, lost--all reasons, but he's not going to change back. He can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silenced

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fullmoon_ficlet prompt "silence". My headcanon of Peter draining the Alpha from Derek is again the premise, along with the wrist bite being a claiming bite for a mating. Apparently I enjoy making Stiles miserable in his unwanted relationships with Peter. Set a year into the future (at least I believe they're all going to be juniors in the coming season, so this is a year later.) Also, there are purposeful tense changes as Stiles remembers or the reader looks back to past events. The now is in present tense. I hope this works for people.

He does it on purpose.

Peter enjoyed his babbling, his run-on sentences, his spouting of obscure facts, so he's silent as much as possible.

To punish him.

And, because, the depression that holds him earthbound, solid, heavy, yet empty, demands he shut up.

Stiles can't help but make little noises when Peter's fucking him, because he's seventeen and perpetually horny and he gets off on being touched, even by a psychopathic pedophile. But, he never talks during sex.

If anyone had told him that a year ago he would have laughed in their face and babbled about his inability not to babble. For nearly four years, jerking off was accompanied by a running commentary of dirty talk and names--Lydia's, Danny's, in that last year, Derek's. Mostly into his pillow, because the walls of his house are thin and his dad doesn't always work nights.

But, now, he simply groans, grunts softly, still into pillows, but that's because Peter prefers him on his knees and elbows, face down and neck bared. Sometimes his teeth--human teeth--hold him there, but he never bites.

He's waiting until Stiles turns eighteen, until his father can't do anything about visible hickeys.

It'll be more than a hickey, though. 

The bite will be given with fangs and fur and he'll turn.

Against his will.

But, then everything has been against his will and still it's happened.

That night in the garage, Peter offered Stiles the bite and he refused, and then was confused--though not really, because he expected it, that or death--when he was still bitten, but didn't turn or die. He asked Derek, who just looked uncomfortable and vanished into the gloom. He wondered if he was like Lydia, but that didn't feel right.

It wasn't until the Alpha's return from the dead that Stiles learned the truth about the scars on his wrist that never faded, which he covered with a leather band that made them itch when he perspired.

Not a bite to turn, but one to claim, and that night when Peter rose with the full moon, the claim dragged Stiles from his bed, head throbbing from Lydia's drugged punch, led him to a no-tell motel where he found his mate waiting, and he lost his virginity on a dingy mattress.

That night he wasn't quiet, he fought and he begged and he hated. His voice was angry, it was cold, it was scared. His yells were buried in the tangled sheets, not that anyone in that kind of place would come to his aid.

Afterwards, when Peter moved away, and Stiles curled into a ball, shivering from reaction--and pleasure, because Peter had wrung that unwillingly from his confused body--he was quiet and he listened as his mate explained what he'd done, and what was going to be.

And that Stiles had no choice in any of it except to either fight it or accept.

He didn't speak, didn't respond, just silently prayed this was all a drug-induced nightmare.

It wasn't.

Over the following weeks, Stiles grew more and more quiet. At home, at school, at pack meetings, in bed. He knew it was happening, but didn't have the desire to change his behavior. His friends knew the reason and were concerned but helpless. His teachers were just relieved he was quiet unless asked a question, and, then, didn't spout off random responses, but actually well-thought out answers and arguments.

His dad...well, Stiles could see the concern and confusion, but, busy with double shifts due to few wanting to join a sheriff's department known mostly for a massacre of its deputies, he was rarely home to talk to his son.

After nearly a year, that makes their relationship better. That and the fact that instead of letting Stiles run wild after the Pack, Peter protects him. Any bruises are caused by his mate's enthusiastic fucking and easily hidden.

He also makes certain that Stiles is home the nights his dad is off work, and that he checks in regularly when they're apart.

Stiles is slightly grateful, but he's not about to tell Peter that.

Now, starting his senior year, his teachers and his father think he's matured, growing out of his ADHD, but the Pack knows the truth. There's nothing they can do and Stiles wouldn't want them to try.

He'll never forget how long it took Derek to heal from near fatal wounds after he stood up to Peter to try to kill him again, all for Stiles.

Sometimes Stiles really wishes Derek had claimed him, but that's something he never talks about either.

He's not stupid, and Peter may be devoted to him in a creepy way, may care about him because his wolf drives him to caring, but Stiles knows if he ever looks towards another, he'll end up beaten and locked away for the rest of his life.

So, he tries not to think about Derek or anyone else, tries to live in the now of the wolf he will soon become, and wonders if once he's been bitten, he'll change into more than a werewolf. Will he suddenly accept Peter as his mate? Will he care for him?

Will he change so much that he'll actually love the bastard?

God, he hopes not, but there's no one he can ask, so he keeps the constant questions and fears inside, remaining silent.

Waiting.

Surviving.

"You're quiet tonight," Peter murmurs, arm around Stiles as they sit together on the couch watching Project Runway. In the past, Stiles would mock the designers' choices and provide a running commentary to any reality show the Pack watched, but no longer.

He shrugs, his eyes focused on the show, his mind anywhere but. He no longer flinches when his mate brushes his lips over his cheek and holds him closer. Around them the Pack chatters, snacks, laughs. Derek, in a corner, broods, his eyes lighting on Stiles rarely to prevent a reaction from the Alpha.

Stiles licks his lips but doesn't say anything.

End


End file.
